"Not yet, Monsieur le Duc, not yet.... I am waiting for news from Paris."
And he went to his bedroom.
M. de Mortemart felt ready to leave Saint-Cloud, but a final sentiment of devotion towards the royal fortune, which was near foundering, kept him at the palace. So he went back into the apartments that had been assigned to him, but did not go to bed.
We have seen how MM. de Vitrolles, de Sémonville and Argout had been received both by the Municipal Commission and by M. Laffitte. MM. de Vitrolles and d'Argout returned to Saint-Cloud in order to relate the result of their mission; they lost sight of M. de Sémonville on the way. M. de Sémonville's conscience was quite satisfied by his first visit to Saint-Cloud and he now thought he had a right to do something to secure his position as grand referee. So he remained in Paris. In the opinion of MM. de Vitrolles and d'Argout, there was not a moment to be lost, though, even in not losing a moment, still, in all probability, nothing more could have been done to save the Monarchy. They found M. de Mortemart up and in a state of despair.
All that night, whilst the king was tranquilly playing whist and the dauphin was mechanically consulting his geographical charts, he had stood on the balcony looking towards the capital, bursting with impatience and trembling at every noise that came from the direction of Paris, as a filial son might tremble at each crack of the paternal foundations that are about to fall. He related to MM. de Vitrolles and d'Argout the various alarms and agonies of disappointment he had suffered. His hearers wanted to carry him back to Paris with them.
"What shall I do there?" replied M. de Mortemart. "I have no official character. Can I go and say like a mere adventurer, 'The Ordinances are revoked and I am Minister'? Who would believe me? An order, or signature or some means of recognition and I would join you at once."
It had been decided, then and there, to draw up the fresh Ordinances and to revoke those of the 25th, and that, when they were drawn up, the king should sign them. They were actually drawn up then and there, but the hitch came when the signing by the king was needful. Etiquette was rigid: only those in high quarters who had the right of entrée were privileged to have direct access to the king's private rooms and none of these three gentlemen possessed that right. So the Life Guards refused them an entry. They tried to win over the valet de chambre. He, too, refused to let them pass.
Why not? Did not the valet de chambre refuse M. de La Fayette's entrance to Louis XVI.'s cabinet on 6 October 1789, when he came to save the lives of Louis XVI. and his family from the universal slaughter going on—because he had not the right of entrée?
Alas! King Charles X. had not even a Madame Élisabeth by him to exclaim to the stupid valet de chambre—
"No, monsieur, he has not the right of entrée, but the king grants it him."